


Give Up the Ghost

by cleo4u2, xantissa



Series: Honeypot [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings in notes!!!!!, Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Intrigue, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Sasha on a rampage, ross is a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:35:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8500780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleo4u2/pseuds/cleo4u2, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa
Summary: They were happy together and the year had been good for them. They thought nothing could tear them apart. They were wrong.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Отпусти Призрака](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15379074) by [Saysly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saysly/pseuds/Saysly)



> **Important warning** at the end of the chapter. It is a spoiler, so choose your poison. There are potentially triggering/upsetting/disturbing events in this story tagged ONLY at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers. **Ignore at your own risk,** however, we are promising a happy ending.
> 
> Beta'd by the incomparable [NurseDarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/profile)

Sasha killed the first guard in the loading dock. He waited for most of the guards to leave, keeping an eye of the straggler. In his ear, Sai was counting down slowly from fifty, letting him know when he will have control of the ballast tanks. The security was too tight for Sai to hack completely; the kid was very smart, but he was no Tony Stark. He was tenacious, though, and motivated enough that he had found a chink in their defenses. The outside valves to the ballast tanks were controlled by remote signal. That _was_ hackable.

Sasha was to be a distraction while Sai dealt with the technical aspects. What he had chosen to do was fairly straightforward. Nothing more than announcing his presence. As he didn’t intend to leave this place standing - or floating, as it were - when he was done, he could inflict all the mayhem and chaos he wanted.

Moving quickly and quietly, Sasha slipped behind the last guard to leave the dock as the man looked down to swipe his card through the reader. Using his flesh hand, Sasha wrapped a hand about his head and jerked the guard’s chin up and pulled him backward, off balance. With a simple twist of his hips, he turned them both towards the security camera.

“Knock knock,” he said, palming a twelve inch combat knife with his metal hand.

Before the guard could recover from his shock, Sasha plunged the knife into the man’s abdomen, through his uniform. Using all of his artificial arm’s power, he yanked upwards, ripping through clothes and flesh, opening the man from abdomen to throat. The knife caught against bone and Sasha only jerked harder, breaking the bone and, likely, making the blade useless. In his hold, the man jerked and thrashed, making senseless, pained noises even as his insides slowly slipped through the slice to land wetly on the concrete floor.

Never one for needless cruelty, Sasha pulled his knife from the guard’s chest and thrust it into his back, severing the spinal cord out of sight of the security camera. Leaving the blade in place, he allowed the body to topple sideways, then returned to the shadows of the loading dock. A ventilation shaft was located there that he could disappear into. Sai had been disappointed to find the ducts hadn’t led deeper into the base, only between the loading docks, but Sasha had seen a perfect used for them. When he dropped from view of the cameras, Sasha would panic the guards inside even more. 

Even if Sai tripped a failsafe while hacking the ballast tanks, they’d never notice.

As he waited for the security team to rush to the docks, Sasha couldn’t help but remember the moment that had brought him here. He thought of it every time he stopped, every time he had a moment of stillness. Like a loop from a nightmare he had never imagined, even after countless years of torture.

The moment he’d watched his Steve die.

\----

Steve was scheduled to speak at two, so Sai had herded Bucky to the couch at one forty five. The guy speaking at the time was no one Bucky had heard of, but Sai seemed to as he leaned forward in his chair to catch the end of his speech. He’d been smiling; Sasha hadn’t seen him smile since. Hadn’t seen him laugh; all the progress of the last six years, gone in an instant.

Exactly at two, Steve had taken the podium, introduced by the minister of some country Bucky had never been to. He had been beautiful, dressed by Tony’s tailor, his smile a mile wide. Bucky had watched that moment over and over later, lingering over the way the sun had glinted off Steve’s hair, the way he’d glancedback stage to catch Natasha’s eye, and the confident way he’d moved.

“Good afternoon,” he’d said, and Bucky and Sai’s world had collapsed.

The explosion had come from under the stage, sending the crowd into a panic. People screamed, though Sasha hadn’t been able to see anyone hurt. There was fire, smoke, Steve helping some elderly woman stand up and head toward the back. 

Then gunfire, several assault rifles firing at once. Several handguns returning fire. Sasha lost sight of Steve in the chaos, in the smoke.

More screams.

Another explosion and the feed had cut out.

Next thing Bucky knew, he was standing over the wrecked ruin of their T.V., his flesh hand stinging, heart pounding so hard he could feel his blood rushing in his ears. He looked up from the wreckage at the couch where Sai was sitting completely still, the T.V. remote still clutched tightly in his hand, wide eyes staring at the as if the T.V. was still showing what had looked like Steve’s _death_.

Then he was punching the numbers of Stark’s phone with shaking fingers, having to hold the small device carefully in fear of dropping or crushing it.

At some point Sai must have got up from the couch, but Sasha became aware of him only when he heard the sound of an explosion again, coming from the tiny laptop speakers. The kid was clicking through websites, each one playing the explosion over and over again as different news stations were commenting in a multitude of languages. The sound of the reporters shocked voices echoed in Sasha’s brain, almost deafening him. 

Stark was talking at him, a thousand words per minute. Sasha caught one in ten, half his brain following the news feeds Sai was switching through. Sasha didn’t remember what he said to Stark, didn’t remember if he yelled, or pleaded, an instinctual denial making him blink in and out over and over. Later, he remembered only snippets from his conversation with Stark. Remembered Stark telling him to calm down, relax, sit down and _wait_. Someone had attacked the peace summit. There was no information on survivors yet, and Tony promised to fly out himself to find out what had happened, had been promised updates as soon as Tony had them. 

Bucky couldn’t calm down, he couldn’t just do nothing. The second he stopped, he thought about the explosion, started calculating the amount of explosives it would take to blow such a building, their probable placement, and how slim the possibilities of surviving the blast would be. He couldn’t just wait. 

Hanging up on Tony, Bucky tried to dial Steve’s cell.

It didn’t connect, just as it hadn’t all the previous times he had tried it.

Praying to gods he didn't believe in, Bucky tried to will the phone to connect. For Steve to answer. For Steve to call him and say it was all a mistake, that he was all right, and then scold him for panicking. The phone he kept charged and paired with Steve’s remained silent. He kept checking the screen though. Because Steve would call. He would know they were watching, that they were worried. He would have called, and that was how Sasha knew something was horribly wrong. 

Steve didn’t call.

An hour later, Tony called with the news. They’d found Steve’s body buried by the second or third explosion. His skull had been caved in, though Sasha didn’t learn that until the news channels had. All Tony said was Steve was dead and Natasha was in the hospital. Then he’d hung up, nearly in tears, to ‘make arrangements’.

“No,” Sai had said as soon as Sasha hung up, “No, he’s not. Sasha, _no_.”

Sasha hadn’t known what to say, looking up at Sai who had become as much Steve’s son as his own in the short year they’d had together. Sai, his eyes large and glassy, just shook his head slowly from side to side. He couldn't even keep his grip on the laptop on his knees, the computer sliding sideways off his lap to thump onto the floor.

Sai didn't even seem to notice, just slowly shook his head, denying the truth with all of his being.

“Sai,” Sasha said thickly, tongue not fitting right in his mouth.

“It’s not true,” Sai whispered, his eyes not really focussing on Bucky.

The pale skin, the blown-out pupils; Sai was going into shock.

Sasha rushed to him, pulling him into his arms and holding him close. A cold, bitter rage was already rising in his chest, but he pushed it down. Wiped it away, because Sai needed him now. Even if he had to be numb to take care of their kid, he would do it. And Sasha needed Sai, too. Sai had been with him when all Sasha had was bitter rage. Sai had been with him when he’d learned what being loved and loving could be like. Sai was here now, when his world crashed down again. He pulled the kid close enough, hard enough, he was probably hurting him but Sai didn't protest, his own skinny fingers digging into Sasha’s flesh arm hard enough to bruise.

“Tell me it’s not true,” Sai pleaded, his voice small and terrified, begging in a way Sasha hadn’t ever heard before. “Please, Sasha, _please_!”

Sasha bit his lip until it bled, wanting so badly to tell Sai it was all a horrible mistake. He couldn't though. All he could do was hold Sai, hold this raw ball of agony in his arms and do everything he could not to shatter himself.

\----

Sasha had come to the Raft to make a point, to show Ross he could get to him anywhere he tried to hide. Discovering the place had been difficult, the records so buried even Tony hadn’t been able to find it. Bucky had, though, in the last research facility he had torn apart. They had been working on Erskine’s serum, and Sai had dug through their records, looking for anything that might prove Steve was still alive somewhere.

They hadn’t found anything about Steve, but they had found the Raft. A prison for the enhanced, hidden in the middle of the ocean, beneath the waves. A prison for the worst offenders, but also for people who’d never had an actual sentence passed on them by an actual court of law. It had taken some planning, but Sai had figured out a way inside. 

It did involve stealing a small submarine, which was a headache and a half.

Now Sasha was here, at the place Ross would have taken Steve if he hadn’t killed him. Where he would take Banner if he could get his hands on him. Where he would stick Sasha, if he could. Maybe bring back the Soldier. That was the kind of guy Ross was; he had seen that in the other bases, the research and training facilities Tony had tied directly to Ross’ funding. Ross was sick, obsessed with the serum and enhanced soldiers to protect the United States.

As if that kind of power was ever used solely for protection.

Sasha had seen enough from the pictures Sai had recovered of the cybernetic grafts made on volunteers to know Ross was no better than Hydra. That was before he saw the ones of the dead soldiers that had ‘volunteered’ to be exposed to gamma radiation. Another scientist had hoped to trigger a mutation similar to the Hulk’s. 

Then there were the reports on the serum research. Literally dozens of people had had the serum administered to them with results ranging from no reaction, to death, through every spectre of mutation in the middle. None of those experiments succeeded in as spectacular fashion as they had with Steve all those years ago. They didn't even manage to repeat the Black Widow successes. However, they did manage something, soldiers whose mutations gave them additional abilities, but at the cost of their humanity. Like Red Skull, a figure Sasha barely remembered standing on a bridge over a fire. 

Between the cybernetics implants and whatever cocktail Ross’ science team had cooked up, he had a group of enhanced individuals at his disposal. From what Sasha had seen of the training footage, however, they weren’t much more than mindless beasts. Violent and brutal, but incapable of strategic thinking, or taking orders. While certainly dangerous, they wouldn’t be much trouble for Sasha to deal with, or the Avengers. Ross had locked them away since he couldn’t make them do his bidding.

Sasha imagined Ross had hoped for a different result to his experiments with people like Steve and him. Human enough to follow orders, to think, but changed enough to be unstoppable in battle. Strong enough to take on even the Avengers.

That was why Sasha had destroyed them all. Destroyed everything Ross had ever put his sick, twisted hands on. All of it was tainted, the evidence of which he had sent to Tony and the Avengers. It had been too late, by then. Barton, Natasha, Banner, and Wilson had scattered to the winds. Tony had released the information to someone, because no official authorities had come after Sasha, but the Avengers were no more.

Steve had told Sasha more than once that they had needed him, but he’d never thought it was to the extent Steve claimed. He’d thought it was Steve’s desire to be needed, his propensity to give until he had nothing left. The others were professionals, after all. Highly competent, highly trained individuals who worked well together. Surely they would continue without Steve in charge, maybe even fight on in his memory.

The last time Sasha and Sai had seen them had proven to Sasha how wrong he’d been. And Steve wasn’t even around to hear he was right.

\----

The door to the elevators hadn’t stopped until they’d opened the penthouse in Stark Tower. Steve had never gotten around to taking them for a movie night in New York, since they’d been living in Miami, and it had been easier to see everyone at Stark’s place there. 

The penthouse was as lavish, opulent, and overwhelming as Steve had said. The glass wall looked out over the Manhattan skyline, leather and solid oak furniture were situated around the room amidst the built-in technology that Stark had likely installed himself. Of course, Sai had been here once before, but Sasha wasn’t about to let him lead.

All of the Avengers had come to meet them, maybe hoping to feel something more of Steve by seeing his family. If that was what they wanted, they would be sorely disappointed. Neither Sasha, nor Sai had been the men they had grown to be with Steve. Sai, Sasha had noted miserably, had regressed, losing all of the progress he had made opening up, talking, and being around others which he had gained with Steve’s encouragement.

God only knew how bad Sasha had gotten.

“Soldier,” Natasha said evenly, meeting them just outside the elevator. “Sai.”

Sasha smiled thinly, taking in the cast on her arm, her leg, and the thickness of her shirt that spoke of bandages beneath. He also noticed she hadn’t called him James; she had guessed what he’d wanted the intel for. Of course she would, it was why she had been Steve’s best friend. If she hadn’t been so hurt, he would have asked her to come with them.

“Nat,” Sam hurried over, “you should be sitting, resting. Let me -”

The crutch in Natasha’s left hand whacked Sam in the shin. 

“I am just fine, thank you, Wilson.” Hooking the crutches under her arms, she motioned with her head for Sasha and Sai to follow. “Tony is this way.”

They followed further into the penthouse, passing by Sam, who rubbed his shin and averted his eyes from them both. Tony was standing at the center of a circular desk, surrounded by holo projections of data, video streams, and text data. One of the videos, Sasha noted, was of the cleanup efforts at the summit that were still on going. Another, was of Steve’s two-word speech before everything had gone so…wrong.

“Ah, Robocop,” Tony had greeted, likely alerted by the sounds of Natasha’s crutches, “I got that information you wanted. Not that I understand why you want it. What’s Ross’ projects got to do with anything?”

Natasha sighed, leaning against the desk.

“I tried to tell him,” she said.

“Not more of this conspiracy theory,” Wilson said, having followed in their wake. “Nat, this was a terrorist attack. Ross wouldn’t attack a peace summit. Even he’s not that crazy.”

“Besides,” Banner said, leaning inconspicuously against the glass wall overlooking the city, “he wanted Steve alive. Dead serves no purpose.”

“Unless it was an accident,” Barton said, coming up on Natasha’s left, “and what he wanted was to have these so-called terrorists take him hostage.”

“I’m the furthest thing from Ross’ fan there can be,” Banner said, a strained smile on his face, “and even I think that’s crazy. Not one of us here would have rested until Steve was back home, safe. That’s ignoring the fact that Ross would have to have attacked not only our allies, but our own people at that summit. That kind of attack could start World War III!”

Natasha had looked away while Sasha and Sai exchanged glances. This was certainly not the friendly group of people they had gotten to know the few times Steve had dragged them to movie night. It wasn’t like Steve had ever complained that his team was high maintenance, or that they didn’t get along. So this bickering was completely unexpected.

“We’ve already beaten this to death,” Tony interrupted, “And while I know the spies here like to see plots for murder and mayhem in every shadow, that’s certainly not the case here. Now, let’s just agree that Ross is a bad dude, but he’s not a murderer.”

Barton also looked away, but Sasha snatched the USB drive from Tony’s fingers.

“We’re not agreed,” he had said flatly.

“Hang on, now,” Tony said, frowning, taking a step forward. Sasha had merely turned his back, heading back to the elevator with Sai in tow. Behind him he’d heard, “Nat, damn it, get out of the way.”

“Let them leave,” Barton had said coldly. 

Sasha hadn’t been sure at that point if Natasha and Barton had held the others off, or if they’d been allowed to go. What he had been sure of was that the Avengers would be no help seeking revenge. Natasha might have, but she was too hurt, and Barton needed to be there to look after her.

That was fine, Sasha preferred to work alone.

\----

“What is it you want?”

The voice was unexpected enough to give Sasha pause. Looking toward the security camera, he snapped the neck of the man he had snuck up on. He glanced away, down the hall, fired twice at the guard rushing him. One bullet took him in the chest, stopping him cold, the other punched through his forehead and he fell without a sound.

Ross, finally, had deigned to speak to him. After tearing apart five facilities looking for the bastard, hearing nothing, he was here. Watching Sasha kill the men meant to protect him. Of course, Ross had probably thought Sasha would never be able to get into this underwater fortress. Sasha has been happy to prove him wrong.

“You can’t give me what I want,” Sasha told the security camera calmly, “You took him from me, from us, and now I’m taking everything from you. For Steve.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” the voice of General Ross laughed, short, high and false. “Everyone knows ISIS was behind the death of Steve Rogers.”

A frozen feeling washed through Sasha, icy tendrils clutching at his heart and mind. It was so utterly cold, it burned, left nothing but shards of emotion in its wake. Frigid nothingness left behind in all the places Steve had lived, had awoken in him. Love, mercy, kindness, gentleness, and compassion; none of it survived the storm that howled inside his chest.

“He told me about you,” Sasha told the camera before lifting his arm and shooting out the lens.

\----

They were in Arizona, cabins in the mountains that were usually only populated during the winter ski months. Steve had loved it there, spent every day sketching the wilderness and finally let Bucky talk him into taking up painting. They hadn’t been able to stay long, just a week, but they’d talked about going back.

Sasha never wanted to see those mountains again.

“I think it’s past time you told me about Ross,” Bucky said quietly.

It had been another quiet day. Sai had spent it mostly inside, futzing with the latest gadget Steve had had Stark send for the kid. After dinner, Steve had sat down before his easel and Bucky had felt confident enough to broach the subject. It was only a few months after New York, after he had nearly lost Steve entirely, and things between them weren’t always easy.

This time, however, Steve just lowered his brush and nodded.

“You’re right,” he agreed, before dropping the paintbrush in the glass set aside for that purpose. Then he’d gone to Sasha, curled up on the couch at his side, and pulled his metal arm around his shoulders. “What do you want to know?”

Bucky had glanced at Sai where he sat at the kitchen table with his gadgets.

“You want the kid to hear?”

“Might as well,” Steve answered thoughtfully, “You raised him well and he should know if something’s a threat.”

“Then, everything,” Bucky had answered readily. “I need to know everything to keep you safe.”

Steve’s smile had been soft at that, but his answer was all business.

“Tony discovered a contingency, submitted by Ross, that is basically a plan on how to subdue me, ‘should the need arise’.” He spread his hand out before them. “How many men they’d need, their gear, what drugs might keep me down, a cell I can’t break out of, all of it. The…contingency plan was submitted in the chance that I…‘ran off with the serum’.” 

“Ran off,” Bucky repeated blankly.

“Yeah, as if it’s a thing I can choose to leave behind.” Steve had smiled wryly, pulling his legs beneath him so he was both smaller and leaning further against Bucky’s side. “Ross was… Bruce had trouble with him, back when his experiment went bad. He engineered a situation that took out a large part of Harlem; Bruce still thinks it's his fault, when it wasn’t. We think this would likely be the same. Tony’s watching him for me, in case he starts making a move. He’s got a hard-on for the serum, however he can get it, and if he has to hurt either me, or Bruce, he probably will. Assuming he can get away with it.”

“It seems to me, this General Ross would benefit from being treated the same way he wants to treat other people. Let him see how fun it is to have your freedom taken away.”

Steve’s smile grew, but he shook his head and pressed his nose against Bucky’s jaw.

“He hasn’t done anything. Yet. He might never do anything, it’s just… I don’t fancy giving him an opportunity.”

“Just say the word and the guy will have a freak accident,” Bucky offered in complete honesty. He was retired, but if Steve wanted it, he would definitely track Ross down and ensure the guy suffered a lot of bad luck.

Steve huffed out a quiet laugh. 

“As charming as I find your offers of wholesale murder, no, thank you.” A hand stained with green and blue paint slid under Bucky’s shirt, pressing against his stomach. “I can think of much better uses for your time.”

Sighing loudly, Sai stood up.

“I’ll go get my headphones, shall I?”

“Yes,” Bucky answered, pulling Steve’s chin up to kiss him long and deep. It was the first time Steve hadn’t protested, just blushed, as Sai slipped from the room.

\----

Sasha strode deliberately from the security station, body tilted to compensate for the forty-five degree tilt of the Raft. Once Sai had hacked the transmitter, he had tilted the submerged prison, sending people and equipment crashing. It was almost hilarious how such a simple adjustment completely destroyed the carefully planned security of the high-tech facility. 

Or it would have been, if Sasha felt anything but frozen.

Sasha’s long stint with Hydra had taught him to have no set expectations, to be instantly prepared for the strangest and most unforeseen changes. Walking the corridors tilted at such a steep angle required him to have one foot on the floor and one on the wall, but he adjusted quickly. The troops sent after him couldn’t walk in formation, had to stumble and shuffle one by one, as they couldn’t adapt fast enough. This made it the best part of the extremely simple plan, and Sasha effortlessly picked them off.

As he heard approaching footsteps, irregular and loud, Sasha braced one foot on the wall and his knee on the floor. Taking aim with his rifle, he waited for the first guard to round the corner. The man immediately fell with his face blown out. 

Shifting his aim to make sure the large calibre rifle took out the second man’s shoulder, Sasha dropped him screaming to the ground. It was only in movies where people got shot and were still able to take perfect aim as if nothing happened. Most people could only scream and twist in pain, provided they didn’t go right into shock. 

The third guard hesitated behind his screaming colleague just long enough for Sasha to put a bullet in his chest. The man fell back, finger squeezing on his trigger and spraying bullets over their heads. However, there wasn’t enough blood splattered on the man’s chest, indicating some kind of bulletproof vest. 

Sasha shifted his aim and put a bullet between the man’s eyes.

The last guard began shooting before he even saw Sasha, but he didn’t account for the tilt of the floor and had trouble covering the whole area. Luckily for Sasha, he was shooting in a straight line. Straightening his arm, opening his palm, Sasha positioned it to intercept the bullets. He felt their impact and heard them ricochet back into the Raft’s walls and floor, even back at the shooter. The man ducked away, yelping, and Sasha launched into movement.

Pushing off from the ground, his legs powering him into a leap that landed him atop the shooter, Sasha slammed him into the floor with his own weight. He didn't even bother shooting, merely curled his metal fist and punched with enough force to shatter bone and cave the man’s entire face inwards, sending blood and other matter splattering with a loud crunch.

Climbing back to his feet, Sasha checked to make sure there were no more guards left to deal with. There wasn’t. Those on the floor were the only people in the hallway. Pleased, he turned to the still-moaning one with a blown out shoulder and straddled the man’s chest. 

Slapping the guards face a few times to make him focus, Sasha barked, “If you tell me where the armory is, I will let you live.”

“Rogers is dead, damn you!” Ross shouted. “There’s nothing to be gained from this!”

The cold sang in Sasha’s veins.

“There’s revenge.”

The guard’s eyes slowly tracked to him, glassy with pain. Sasha put his flesh hand on the sad remnants of the man’s shoulder and pressed, making the body under him arch up in agony. He couldn’t even scream, mouth opening in silence.

“Armory,” he repeated evenly.

It didn’t matter how many times he would have to repeat the question, he would get his answers. He would destroy this place like he had all the rest.

\----

They went off grid as soon as they’d left the Tower. Sasha was sure Ross was keeping tabs on the Avengers one way or another. Stark was proud of his security systems, but Sasha knew that as long as there were humans working in the place, there would be a way in - a simple bribe, a threat, blackmail, leverage, or just people sharing Ross’ beliefs. Sasha had turned more than one person in his life. No technology could guard against the watchful eyes of thousands of people. 

They spent three days holed up in a cheap motel as Sai poured through the data Stark had collected for them, correlating it with their own sources. Sasha had delegated himself to the role of a runner, going out to fetch food, or a new laptop when Sai had declared the previous one was ‘burned’. He could have grilled Sai for details, but he didn’t have the energy. 

All he wanted was a direction, a goal, something to calm his mind, to give him a purpose that would blot out the dark hole that had taken residence in his chest.

When Sasha returned from his latest foray with take-out, he found Sai no longer sitting hunched over his laptop as he had been for the last three days. He was lying on the bed, eyes open and staring at the ceiling. He didn’t react to Sasha coming in at all.

“Sai?” Sasha asked tentatively. “Something happen?”

Sai didn’t look at him, kept staring at the ceiling, his hands threaded together and resting on his stomach.

“I think Ross was behind the bombing,” he said slowly.

“You found proof?” Sasha asked sharply. If he had, they could get the full force of the Avengers to help.

"No,” Sai interrupted that train of thought, ”but I found a base in Utah where Ross conducts training for ‘special recruits’.” Sai finally turned to look at Sasha. “There’s an awful lot of chemicals delivered there. A lot of deadly accidents. When I compared the chemical manifests to what a research hospital orders on a monthly basis, they came up…similar. I think Ross wanted Steve for _research_.” 

Sai’s eyes were dark and bleak, not even angry. The same expression had been in the kid’s eyes when they’d met in that manor in France the first time. 

“I don’t know how, but I _know_ it was him,” Sai declared, still looking intensely at Sasha, his voice was still bleak. “They have to pay for it. They have to die for this, for snuffing that kind of man out of existence.”

Carefully, Sasha put the food down and came to sit beside Sai. He didn't touch him and not just because contact was harder without Steve around. The way the kid was looking at him, Sasha wouldn’t dare presume to touch him.

“If I go after Ross’ bases,” Sasha said slowly, hoping to make Sai understand, to maybe get permission, or forgiveness, “I will kill everyone I find.”

Reaching out, Sai’s fingers brushed Sasha’s where they rested on the bedspread. 

“They have to _pay_.” 

There was a vicious, cold edge that last word. Sai knew what he was asking for. That was the thing with people like them, people who had experienced their kind of violent pasts. They were broken from the pain and abuse, but it had left them sharp and violent in return.

Sasha nodded once. 

\----

The control room was surprisingly easy to take once he had destroyed the armory. Truthfully, Sasha was disappointed in the force left to guard the control center of the Raft. Then again, he supposed it made sense. They had never expected anyone to attack this place, relying on its remote inaccessibility far too heavily.

Well, sucked to be them.

“All right!” Ross hollered as Sasha inspected the various security panels. “We can come to an agreement here, Soldier.”

Sasha looked up at the camera skeptically, raising his gun.

“Wait, this is what you want to see,” Ross said eagerly, making Sasha hesitate. “The control station to your right. Cycle through the feeds in D block. You’ll know what you’re looking for.”

“It’s probably a trap,” Sai commented.

The kid had been remarkably reticent ever since Steve’s death, regressing his progress healing from his abuse to before they had even met Steve. These were the first words Sai had spoken in days that weren’t related to his work on the mission. It made Sasha’s heart ache, even beneath the cold that filled his chest. Sai deserved so much more than the pain he had suffered all his life.

Sasha’s hesitance must have spooked Ross, because he blurted, “He’s alive. He’s alive and if you just walk away, we’ll give him back.”

In a second, Sasha was at the control panel, scanning through the feeds that ran directly into each of the cells. The first few were full of the results of Ross’ experiments with the serum. The fifth, however, was something he didn’t expect in his wildest dreams.

On a medical gurney, tilted the way people with damaged lungs or at risk of pneumonia were held at hospitals, and covered by a white sheet up to his shoulders was _Steve_.

“Sasha, that’s...” Sai trailed off in his ear, sounding as stunned as Sasha felt.

Steve was still and pale, but very much alive. There were tiny movements here and there: a flutter of pulse at his throat; a miniscule shift of his head, indicating the stillness was one of sleep not of death; the steady rise and fall of his breathing. He had heavy bags under his eyes and his skin hung loose on his frame from dehydration or malnutrition. The sheet itself was evidence, proof of what Ross did not want him to see. Hiding, god only knew what damage. 

Even battered and unconscious, drooling from the corner of his mouth where it was open, and the corner of his lips cracked with dryness, Steve was the most beautiful thing in the world.

And god, Sasha had missed him.

\----

Sasha wasn’t sure how long he had stood before their bedroom doorway. The room had never felt so empty, so dark. Steve had picked out their bedspread, the curtains. He had painted the landscapes framed on the walls, hung up his photos of his past alongside new ones of his life with Sai and Bucky. The furniture they had chosen together, bickered happily over as they had shopped through the store like any other couple.

It had been his favorite room in the house. Their room, their bed, in their home. The lighting had been…something particular Steve liked when they were hunting for houses. Sasha couldn't recall now, no matter how many times he racked his memory. The light was… Steve would have remembered. He always remembered when Sasha couldn’t, he remembered and now he was…

Sasha couldn’t cross the threshold. Couldn’t be left alone with what he couldn’t remember and, worse, what he could. Steve’s smile, the way he laughed, how patient he had been. How he could make Bucky smile and laugh. How he could make Bucky feel safe, how he would argue and sass him. Even troll him, though he didn’t know what that meant.

Steve wasn’t this perfect, saintly person. He could be a stubborn asshole, could be a real punk about things, but Steve _loved_ Sasha. Loved him as that far-away man of their shared past, and, what was more stunning, loved him as the creature that had survived Hydra, too. Sasha was…grateful, was humbled, by the things Steve had shown him. Steve had made him truly live, made him become a real person, where before he had been just a ghost. Steve was his life. 

Shutting the door on their bedroom, Sasha had curled up against the wall. Sai had found him there in the morning, asleep on the floor, because Steve was gone. Without him, nothing would be the same. Without him, Sasha was nothing but a husk of wasted potential.

\----

Steve wasn’t dead. He’d been taken. He’d been hurt. Ross had experimented on him, done god only knew what. Had taken Steve from Sai, made them all believe he was dead.

Sasha lifted his gun and shot out the security feed. His flesh hand was shaking so badly there was no chance of him holding the gun in it. The metal one was immune, internal buffering system filtering out extraneous nervous input, so the arm as steady as ever.

“Plug me into the main terminal,” Sai commanded in his ear, his voice shaking and eager, “I can get control of the entire Raft, like we planned Sasha. You already got me through most of their security, It will be easy now, I promise,” Sai said breathlessly. “I know you want to hurt him, I know you do, but this isn’t just an attack mission any more. This is a rescue. You have to stay calm, okay?”

“He’s not dead,” Sasha murmured.

“No,” Ross answered, “He’s just fine, as you can see. Now, if you just walk out of here, I’ll have him on a transport back to New York City before you know it.”

On the feed, Steve twitched, his arm convulsing before he fell still again. Sasha let his fingers brush the screen, as if he could reach through it and touch Steve. Steve, who wasn’t dead. Who was still warm and just out of reach. Was this what it had felt like when Steve had realized who Sasha was? This odd mixture of relief, joy, and sickening, absolute failure? No wonder he had thrown up; Sasha wanted to throw up, too.

“Sasha, I need you to stall him. I can patch that feed to Stark Tower, get Iron Man here in… A quinjet could make this in thirty minutes, but you gotta plug me into the main terminal.”

It took effort, Sasha’s fingers uncharacteristically clumsy as he reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out the USB drive Sai had formatted. A small antennae came out the end that would connect it to Sai via a hijacked satellite. Moving away from the video of Steve was the hardest thing he had ever done, but Sasha went to the center console and plugged the device into nearest USB port.

“I’m in,” Sai said moments later, “You can do this, Sasha. We can,” Sai’s voice broke, “We can take him home. Just…stall him.”

Sasha took a breath.

“Give him to me and I’ll leave,” he said, unable to hide the way his voice wavered.

“I have the leverage here, Soldier,” Ross said, his voice suddenly confident. Damn his traitorous emotions. “Leave, then we’ll return him. He’s fine now, but you wouldn’t want anything unfortunate to happen to him.”

“Sasha,” Sai said quickly, “he’s just baiting you. He can’t hurt Steve, right? Because then you’ll just go back to killing everyone.”

The flare of rage that had surged through Sasha, making him want to tear the control room apart, subsided slowly. Ebbing away as he breathed, he listened to Sai’s voice and repeated those words. Ross couldn’t hurt Steve, not ever again.

“You hurt him,” Sasha said, trying to regain the calm of the cold that he had had until the moment he had seen Steve’s face, “and what do you think I’ll do to you?”

Ross’ silence was telling.

“No, General,” Sasha said lowly, “I’ll do worse than that. You’ll pray for death when I’m done with you if you touch him again.”

Ross coughed.

“Seems we have a stalemate.”

“Tony is getting the others together,” Sai said, his voice full of emotion for the first time in a month. He’s excited. “All the Avengers are coming, Sasha. He says they can push it to twenty minutes.”

Sasha returned to the D block video screen, to Steve still lying unconscious in his cell.

“Why?” he asked. “Why did you take him? The world needs him.”

“Needs him?” Ross scoffed. “The world needs to be protected from people like him. From people like the Avengers. My research would have provided the government with enough troops to protect against any incursion by foreign powers. You think I’m the only one who thinks supersoldiers will be the faces of the next war? Hardly. China, North Korea, the Soviets, - Well, you’d know about the Soviets, wouldn’t you?”

Sasha went still, but he couldn’t see Ross to tell if he was bluffing. There was only his disembodied, impassioned voice over the Raft’s speaker system.

“You, Soldier, are living proof that regular troops can be modified to keep up with these so-called enhanced individuals. Terrorists, that’s what they are. Iron Man, the Hulk, Thor? The destruction they leave behind is astronomical. The people need real defenders. Captain America can give us that, that is his _true_ legacy, his benefit to society.”

“Do you know my real name?” Sasha asked, voice trembling once again, his hand pressed so hard to the console a switch sliced through his skin. Sasha hardly noticed, so intent on Ross’ voice and Steve’s face.

“Yes,” the man gloated, so sure of himself. “Sasha Marozov, the Winter Soldier.” Ross answered loftily.

“No,” Sasha corrected, speaking slowly, drawing out as much time as he could, “My name is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, formerly of the 107th, and the Howling Commandos, Hydra POW for over seventy years. No, you do not know my name.”

Sasha’s revelation was met with silence.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Sasha went on. “That only three people have ever survived the serum intact.”

“I find it more vexing,” Ross said, trying to pretend he wasn’t nervous. “How is it interesting?”

“Stevie told me that Red Skull became so damned evil because he was evil to start with. That the serum made bad worse, and good great. It took what we were and made us even more of that. Schmit, evil as can be. Steve, the opposite.”

“What did it make you?”

Sasha grinned, even though there was no one to see him.

“It made me dangerous. Steve didn’t keep me around because I was his best friend from Brooklyn,” Sasha lied, “He kept me around because I was the best sniper in the 107th. Because I was good at killing people. Now, well, you saw.”

“You’re the monster in the closet,” Ross said calmly. “You’re what every government is trying to unleash on us. You’re the reason for this program.”

“Funny, I heard the same words, the same rationale when I was in the Red Room. Actually, when I look around, I can't see any difference between your little facility and theirs. How many lives have you ruined? How many ‘volunteers’ never went back to their families so you could have your research? Do you even remember their names?”

“They gave up their lives for the good of their country,” Ross sputtered defensively.

“Jamie Thompson,” Sai whispered in his ear.

“Jamie Thompson,” Sasha repeated, “who died when his bones grew through his skin. Andrew Murphy, who had two little girls waiting for him back home, but sits in one of these cells now. Charlie Sarika, Kayla Iksan, Annie Waimarie, Terese Napier. How many more do I have to say? Roy Lorrie, Jonathan Tellervo, Leonard Silvia. I’ve got them all, Ross,” Sasha snarled. “Every single one, and you never gave a damn that they were _people_ , with families and loved ones. 

“You can justify it all you like, twist the truth that you’re a murderer so you can sleep at night, but you’re no better than Hydra. No better than the Red Room. The world needs to be protected from Tony Stark? From Thor? No, _General_ , it needs to be protected from _you_! That’s why you had to make it look like he was dead. You knew we’d come for him, you knew he had people, people who _need_ him, and you took him anyway. Damn what that does to them, damn what that does to the world.”

“Those are some very pretty words,” Ross said, shaken, but hiding it well, “but it doesn’t change our situation. If you kill anyone else, we’ll kill your…mascot. The best course of action is for you to leave, Soldier.”

“Or,” Sasha said sweetly, “I figure out where D block is and open every cell until I find him. I have time. Lots and lots of time and you… Been able to call for backup yet, General?”

“You son of a bitch,” Ross cursed him.

“No,” Sasha brushed a finger over Steve’s image, “didn’t think so.”

“I’ll open every cell in D block,” Ross threatened, desperation creeping into his voice, “You think my failures will leave him alone? Think he’ll be safe when he can’t protect himself?” Ross’ voice lowered dangerously, confidence returned as horror grew in Sasha’s stomach. “Think you can make it to him before they rip him apart?”

“You do that, and I’ll feed you to them myself,” Sasha snarled.

On the video feed, Steve’s eyes fluttered open. His head swung in a half circle, taking in the room on a neck that wouldn’t easily obey his instructions. Steve’s shoulder twitched, a half rolling movement that was usually a precursor to raising his arm, but it was checked halfway through. A frown of confusion twisted Steve’s face and he jerked again before lifting his head and thumping it down on the gurney.

Restraints.

Sasha blinked very slowly, trying to not to feel the rage threatening to swamp him.

Steve was restrained under those sheets.

Moments later Steve repeated the movement, having forgotten the restraints in his drug-induced haze. He kept wiggling, struggling, his feet, his fingers, until the sheet covering him shifted, then continued its downward slide, pulled by gravity and its own weight. There weren’t many wounds on Steve’s chest. No sores or extensive bruising. Yet, Sasha was on his feet in an instant, metal hand closing over the console instinctively, warping metal and electronics.

There, on Steve’s naked chest, was a line of black stitches in a clear Y shaped incision. The shorter lines reached towards his collarbones, the long tail disappearing along his stomach, under the remaining sheets.

They had fucking opened Steve up as if he was a corpse. They had _vivisected_ him.

“Oh, god,” Sai whispered.

“What did you do to him?” Bucky demanded, his voice deceptively calm. Hiding the storm swirling inside him, the cold and rage that burned and crested, threatening to swallow him whole if he let it. 

“What had to be done,” Ross answered pompously, “For the greater good.”

“The greater good?” Sasha shouted, the console screeching so he let go in fear of losing sight of Steve. “You have nothing to show for it but death, misery and grief! This serves no _good_ ; not by any definition!”

“Says the man who destroyed five United States facilities and all the personnel inside. You are not one to argue with me about morality, Soldier. Not when you so often find your means don’t justify the ends. How many died during your battle with Captain America again? Ten? Fifteen? Did he ever forgive you for that?”

Sasha’s stomach swooped. They hadn’t ever talked about that, about the men he had killed going after Cassel. Men Sasha now knew Steve would have felt responsible for. What did it mean that he had never mentioned them? That he had forgiven Sasha? Or that he never would?

“Sasha,” Sai said in his ear, earnest and eager, “Stark is here. He’s going to take over, hack the Raft systems I can’t get into.”

“Hey there, Allie Hamilton. Long time no chat.”

Bucky had never been happier to hear Stark’s voice, even if his Notebook references were starting to wear a little thin.

“He can’t talk to you,” Sai said sternly. “Ross can hear him and we don’t want to give away our advantage.” 

Oh he loved Sai, he really, really did. The kid snubbing Stark was a thing of beauty.

“James?” Natasha’s voice came coolly over the comms. “Steve never had to forgive you because he never blamed you; he blamed himself.”

It didn’t make Sasha feel any better.

“Maybe,” Sasha said, hands shaking even if his voice was steady, “but I was conscious of every life I took. When I could avoid it, I did. You don’t even see them as people, just obstacles.” 

“Nat, Wilson and I are slipping in,” Barton said, “Sai showed us how, said you took out the cameras on the way in?”

“Not all of them,” Sai answered for him.

“I’ll take care of the ones that are still on,” Tony interjected. “Give me thirty seconds and they’ll loop. Anyone can go anywhere and they won’t notice, but I will.”

“Sasha,” Sai said, “I’ll get you Steve’s location.” There was a pause and he told the Avengers, “He’s being held in D block.” Sai paused, audibly swallowing. “He will need medical assistance.”

Sasha made sure to keep cool, to not react to the words he knew were coming.

“You know the extent of his injuries?” It was Banner’s voice, sounding as if he was patching in from a different location. It made sense they hadn’t brought the Hulk to what was essentially a huge submarine. He imagined they had left him with the quinjet.

Sasha fixed his eyes on Steve’s face. Faintly green and grey, confused as hell, and still beautifully _alive_. 

“It looks like Ross vivisected him,” Sai said, his voice tight, obviously barely controlled.

“I don’t know what that means,” Wilson said into the suddenly-unnatural quiet, only Ross’ voice droning on, monologuing again about duty and sacrifice, bullshit that the bastard wouldn’t have understood the real meaning of if it bit him in the ass. Which it wouldn’t, because Sasha was going to punch him to death. See if he liked being a sacrifice to the greater good then.

“It’s when they perform an autopsy,” Stark said, unnaturally sober, “but with the subject alive.”

Someone gagged over the comm.

“Sam,” Natasha called worriedly.

“James,” Barton said conversationally, “I can’t promise Ross will be alive if I find him first.”

“I’m fine,” Wilson muttered. ”It’s just…it’s _Steve_ ,” he said, bewildered, as Sasha was, that somebody would do such a thing to a person as good as Steve. 

\----

The house was empty when Bucky returned home, but the security system was armed. Bucky wasn’t worried, most evenings he came back at sunset he would find the house quiet, the lights off, and his boys on the upstairs deck. Before he got there, Bucky knew what he’d see. Sai curled in his chair, reading, or on his laptop, completing whatever course work he had. Steve at his easel, painting.

If he lingered in the door, he could listen to their conversation, but Bucky really didn’t enjoy eavesdropping on purpose. Whatever they spoke of, it was between them as long as they were safe. So, Bucky didn’t linger, he stepped through the double doors and found his boys exactly as expected. Sai glanced up, sparing him a glance and a nod. Steve didn’t look up, but acknowledged he was there when his brush strokes paused.

“I tracked down who trampled your begonias,” Bucky said, taking his spot on the railing to Steve’s left, shoulder leaning against the colonnade.

Steve’s lips twitched in amusement, his eyes tracking the strokes leaving red across the canvas. Another sunset, Steve’s favorite subject since he’d started working with colors. It had always been landscapes, but he’d never been able to capture a sunset with a sketchpad.

“And who was it?” Steve asked, shifting so he was standing just a little closer to where Bucky was sitting.

“Those kids that hang out by that empty lot,” Bucky answered, enjoying the way the fading light lit Steve’s face. “They ran -”

“Of course they did,” Steve said, “You’re scary to fifteen-year-olds.”

Bucky ignored that.

“- so I gave chase. You know I hate the pointless running you do in the mornings, but turns out I really _like_ chasing!” Bucky said happily, feeling pleasantly exercised. Not only had he had a good run, with obstacles, he also got to practice being intimidating. That was a skill that wouldn’t do to get rusty.

“Hmm,” Steve hummed, “So I should have you chase me in the mornings?”

“God, no,” Sai interrupted, “That’ll just end with sex in public places and no one wants that.” He looked up long enough to eye Bucky. “Most of us don’t want that.”

Steve laughed and shook his head.

“I assume you caught them?”

“They only managed to run for less than forty minutes!” Bucky answered. “Can you believe it? No stamina at all, these kids... At least they ran in different directions…”

Steve shifted again, ending up close enough this time he could turn and peck Bucky on the lips.

“Did you avenge my begonias?”

“I did,” Bucky said matter-of-factly, irrationally pleased that that kiss had mattered enough to tear Steve’s attention from his art. “Once I caught the kids, four of them, I had them hold hands and walk the whole neighborhood like that from one house to another, confessing all their little sins to every single person. I can guarantee they will never get a girlfriend in these here parts, that’s for sure.”

Steve laughed hard enough he had to pull his brush from the canvas, then he turned to brush his lips over Bucky’s again.

“My hero,” Steve murmured, his voice dropping to a register that usually meant imminent sex. Bucky knew better, though, because he didn’t put down the damned paint brush. Not that Sai had recognized that.

“Ugh, both of you,” he groaned. “Can’t you go _one_ day without embarrassing public displays of affection?”

Though he flushed, turning back to his work, Steve answered before Bucky.

“Don’t see a point in that after waiting so damned long in the first place. Been in love with this guy for nearly a century, only been with him a year.”

“That’s not a full century,” Sai said petulantly.

“Semantics,” Steve sing-songed.

“What did I teach you, kid?” Bucky asked. “If you see something good, get as much as you can.” 

Bucky snaked his chilled metal hand under Steve’s shirt, enjoying the quiet yelp and how it made Steve squirm.

“Buck!” Steve protested, swiping at him with the paint laden brush. “You know better than that when I’m working.”

Huffing, Bucky smiled because Steve hadn’t moved away from his hand, even despite the chill. His arm reacted to the contact the way it always did, plates clicking, and separating, the usually tightly closed spaces between them loosening. It made the whole surface more flexible, more like an actual arm than a weapon of destruction. Sometimes, Bucky thought the arm was as enamored of Steve as he was of the arm.

Though Steve scowled and swiped at Bucky again with the brush, it was halfhearted at best.

“So what’s with you and sunsets, anyway?” Bucky asked, moving closer, sliding both his arms around Steve’s waist under his shirt. He took his first long look at the painting, similar and yet completely different to the others. They were fairly popular at the trade shows held down at the beach on Saturdays, not that they needed the money. Bucky just thought Steve enjoyed talking to people about his art.

“They’re sunsets,” Sai said, “What’s not to like?”

Steve huffed.

“Sunsets are more than just pretty,” he argued. “Flowers are pretty, Bucky is _pretty_. Sunsets are… They’re messy. Every one is different, yet they’re all beautiful; there’s no perfect sunset, one all sunsets have to live up to. I mean, yeah, most people look at a sunset and go, ‘That’s pretty,’ and go about their day, but…the sunset doesn’t care. It just goes on being beautiful, washing everything in different colors and light. Every day.” He flushed, ducking his head and squirming a little in Bucky’s arms. “Anyway. I like them.”

Bucky pressed his face to Steve’s neck, hiding his smile.

“Sap,” he muttered.

“Shut up, jerk,” Steve shot back, still clearly embarrassed his mouth had run away with him, “You asked.”

“Guys, remember that some things cannot be unseen, please,” Sai muttered, slapping his hands over his eyes. “Please respect my tender young psyche!”

“You shut up, too,” Steve grumbled.

Bucky chuckled, holding Steve tighter as he picked up his brush again. Though Steve hadn’t seen it, he’d noticed the smile Sai had hidden behind his hands. They’d both been charmed by Steve’s unintentional monologue and neither was willing to admit it. 

\----

As soon as Sai had told him how to find D block, Bucky had run. No more careful, measured pacing. There was no point in intimidation or sowing fear, not when the cameras were out. 

Not when Steve needed him.

Barton, Natasha, and Wilson were searching for Ross. Stark was ensuring they had control of every aspect of the Raft, that no one could erase what had gone on here. Ever the competent sysops, Sai was relaying information between the two teams, keeping everyone on point, and getting them any intel they needed.

“Left,” Sai instructed. “Third cell on the left.”

Skidding to a stop before the indicated cell, Sasha demanded, “Open it.”

“Open what?” Ross asked, having been talking at him despite Sasha’s silence in return. He didn’t answer now, either.

“On it,” Stark said happily.

A moment later, the steel wall before Sasha began to sink into the ground. It was slow, too slow for Sasha’s liking, so he lept into the cell when it was only halfway lowered. Landing in a crouch, he found himself behind Steve’s tilted gurney. It was shaking now, Steve trying to get free all the harder with the cell opening, not that he was able to put up much of an effort. The gurney merely wiggled, either made of something strong, or Steve was still heavily sedated. Possibly both.

Hurrying around the bed, Sasha tried to speak, but all that came out was a rough, “Stevie.”

This close, he looked even worse than he had in the video. It was clear he hadn’t seen sunlight in all the time they’d thought him dead, his skin pale and dry, starkly contrasting the angry red of the stitched incisions and needle tracks in his arms. Sasha had to jerk his eyes from the black stitches, thick and hasty. The skin about them was trying to knit together, but was still raw enough Sasha knew they were recent.

Ross had pulled Steve from whatever experiment he’d been undergoing because Sasha had attacked them.

“Stevie,” Sasha said again, ignoring Steve’s flinch and pressing his hand to his cheek. He had to calm him before he released him, had to be sure he wouldn’t hurt himself even more than Ross had already. “Kitten, it’s me. It’s Sasha - Bucky. Doll, you’re safe now.”

Swinging his head back around, Steve took a long moment to focus on Sasha’s face. When he did, he whimpered and leaned into his hand.

“Sashka,” he whispered, voice rusty with disuse.

“Yeah,” Sasha said, trying to smile and managing only a twitch of his lips, “I’m here, doll. We’re all here. I’m gonna get you out, all right? Gonna get you home.”

“Sashka,” Steve managed again, the word slow and deliberate. He took a long breath, closing his eyes, before releasing it and looking up at Sasha again. Somehow, he actually managed a smile, small and lopsided, but a smile. The sight of it nearly destroyed the composure Sasha had held onto so far, bringing tears to his eyes for the first time since this nightmare had begun.

“Gonna take care of you, doll,” Sasha promised. 

Reluctantly, Sasha pulled his hand from Steve’s face. Steve whimpered at the loss, the sound tearing at Sasha’s heart, but he had to get the restraints off to get him out of here. First, though, he had to pull the sheet off. It was harder than he imagined, pulling it off and finding Steve not only naked beneath, but seeing the full length of the incision into his torso. The black stitches traveled low, nearly to his pelvis, and grew sloppier the lower they got. The restraints themselves were some metal alloy without any padding. They’d dug into Steve’s limbs, cutting as he struggled, and bruising him deeply. More bruises ran over his hips, as if he had been strapped down at some point.

Someone, Sai or Stark, made a sound of distress.

“What?” Natasha demanded.

“No,” Sai said sharply, his voice shaking. “It’s Steve, he’s okay, it’s just…”

“It’s worse,” Stark said shortly, “and I’m with the kid. You don’t need to know why.”

“Wilson,” Sasha said, slipping his metal fingers beneath the restraint on Steve’s wrist and wrenching upwards. The metal screamed. “I need you to divert and come here. Leave Ross for Natasha and Barton.”

Freed, Steve’s hand wrapped about Sasha’s wrist. The grip was weak, far too weak, yet Sasha didn’t shake him off. Carefully he transferred the hold to his flesh wrist, letting Steve hold on. This wasn’t sub-drop, but Sasha knew it would still be a comfort to touch him like it was then.

“On my way,” Wilson said quickly.

“Sashka,” Steve murmured as Sasha ripped off the restraint on an ankle. “You,” he licked his lips, clear speech clearly taking quite a bit of effort, “Your mission? Ross?”

“Change of plans,” Sasha said gruffly. 

Steve’s lips twisted in a smile again, head falling back against the gurney. It lasted a moment, but it left Sasha shaking all over again as he ripped off the last two restraints. From the initial reaction, from the mere sight of him, and the way he wouldn’t let go of Sasha’s wrist, Sasha knew Steve wasn’t all right. But he still smiled.

Now that he had Steve free, Sasha didn’t know how to proceed. He had to get Steve off the gurney, get them moving, but he didn’t know how to do that without hurting him even more. Everywhere he looked to put his hands was either injured, or so close to that damned incision pressure would pull on the stitches. Sasha wanted to touch Steve, assure himself he was real, hold him, keep him safe with his own body, and Sasha could do none of it without hurting him even more.

The hand on Sasha’s wrist slipped, falling back to the gurney. “Sasha,” Steve’s breathing immediately hitched, panic setting in. “Sasha, please,” he pleaded, reaching for Sasha and he lost all hesitation. 

Darting forward, he caught Steve’s outstretched hand. Pulling it to his lips, he kissed the abnormally bony knuckles, reaching with his metal hand to thread his fingers through Steve’s hair. Calm didn’t come instantly, but Steve took a shaky breath and held tight to Sasha’s hand.

“I’m here, doll,” Sasha promised. “Not goin’ anywhere. You’re just… I don’t know where to touch you. You’re all…” 

Sasha couldn’t finish the sentence. Steve knew far more about what had been done to him than Sasha imagined he would ever find out. 

“Jesus,” Barton hissed. 

“Tony,” Natasha said coldly. “Find me this son of a bitch.”

“Wilson will be with you in a few minutes,” Sai said. “Maybe, um, the sheet?”

“You need a haircut,” Sasha teased weakly. “Need my hand a second, all right, doll? Gonna get you covered up again.”

Steve grimaced, but nodded, and Sasha realized his blue eyes had never left his face. From the moment he’d recognized him, he’d been staring with the same intensity he normally reserved for his art. It made it all the harder to pull away, bend down and pick up the discarded sheet. 

“This is gonna hurt,” Sasha warned, folding the cloth in half and laying his fingers on Steve’s hip. “Gonna lift you up, okay?”

Gritting his teeth, Steve’s eyes flashed.

“Not broken,” he snapped and the sheer relief that crashed through Sasha’s chest nearly swept him off his feet. He wasn’t the only one, as both Sai and Stark let out twin sighs of relief.

“No?” Sasha teased, easing his fingers under Steve’s hip and pulling him forward. The groan of pain that left Steve kept him from answering, so Sasha didn’t wait for an answer. He eased Steve’s weight onto his chest, doing his best to ignore the soft sounds of pain as he wrapped the sheet around his waist and tied it off.

“Don’t put him back on his back,” Stark blurted as Sasha went to lay Steve back down.

“What?” Sasha demanded, freezing with Steve still against him, still gasping with pain.

“There’s,” Stark fumbled, trying to preserve some of Steve’s dignity and explain at the same time. Distantly, Sasha was aware that he sounded tense, older, but it was too much for Sasha to analyze Stark. All he could do was keep it together long enough to help Steve.

Tucking his head beneath Sasha’s chin, Steve managed to subdue his whimpers and murmured, “‘M okay.”

Heart breaking at the outright lie and how hard Steve was trying to be strong for him, Sasha tightened his hold. Grunting, Steve managed to get his fingers hooked into Sasha’s belt. Holding on even when he hadn’t the strength to do so.

“JARVIS says don’t move him,” Stark said hurriedly. “Wilson, fucking hurry up.”

“Almost there,” Wilson panted, running thank god, because Sasha wasn’t sure his heart could take much more. 

“Gonna be okay, Stevie,” Sasha promised, though he didn’t know if that was true. Didn’t know what it was Stark could see on the cameras that he couldn’t. Sai didn’t say; his focus was now on Barton and Natasha as they got closer to Ross.

Footsteps pounded around the corner and Wilson ran into view. He skidded to a halt, then cursed before hurrying forward and kneeling behind Steve. It was not reassuring, to say the least.

“Heya, Steve,” Wilson said thickly.

“Sam,” Steve said roughly, “Why’s Sasha freakin’ out on me?”

“Well,” Wilson said slowly, “Stark might have freaked him out a little. See, looks like they put a lumbar drain in your back. JARVIS probably pointed out you shouldn’t be moved with it in and all Stark translated was ‘don’t move him.’”

“Ha ha,” Stark grumbled, “That’s what JARVIS said. He said it was _imperative_ , which translates to potentially life threatening.”

Privately, Sasha agreed with Stark’s translation.

“Yes,” Natasha said shortly, “Let’s tell Steve that and scare him, why don’t we?”

“I’m just going to clamp it off,” Wilson said, voice calm and even, so reassuring that even Sasha managed to relax, “and we’ll have someone take it out later, okay?”

“Whatever you say, doc,” Steve answered, but he was shaking now and Sasha didn’t think it was from fear.

“Stevie?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

Steve shook his head. Sasha had the impression he tried to make the movement harsh, the start of it was hard enough anyway, but he simply wasn’t in a condition to pull off any head shaking at all, his neck acting as though made of rubber. The gesture ended up with Steve’s cheek smushed against Sasha’s neck, mouth half open as he took shallow, rapid breaths. It made Sasha ache for him, knowing how frustrated that sense of powerlessness would make Steve feel. Sasha knew it all too well from his own experiences.

“Fine,” Steve said, voice high and strained.

“Don't do that,” Sasha gently chided, “I got you; you don't have to be strong.” Steve gasped, hands clutching reflexively at Sasha’s belt. “Everyone's here for you, doll. Let us take care of you this time.”

Steve's breath hitched, but he shook his head again.

“I can't,” he gasped, “It, I. It - Everything, it hu-hurts. If I…”

“Shh,” Sasha soothed, understanding Steve was barely holding it together under an amount of pain he had never experienced before. “I’ve still got you. It’s gonna be okay, Stevie. Everything’s gonna be okay now.”

Though Sasha wanted to run his hands all over Steve, offer something that wasn’t pain, he kept his arm about his waist and the other around his shoulders. All he could do was hold him and wait for Wilson to finish whatever it was he was doing.

“All finished,” Wilson said, standing, “but you’re gonna have to carry him out of here. Steve, you can’t be walking with that thing in your back, all right?”

“Yeah,” Steve managed breathlessly, frustrated and relieved in equal measure.

Sasha took a breath, bracing himself for the pain he was about to cause.

“Gonna hurt, kitten,” Sasha said. “Here we go.”

Tightening his arm about Steve’s shoulders, he bent and swept his arm beneath his knees. The strangled, choked cry that left Steve made Sasha’s heart clench, but he lifted him anyway. Holding him close, Sasha followed Wilson out of D block and toward the exit. He didn’t know if they were taking the submersible or the quinjet, and frankly Sasha didn’t care, so long as they got Steve to a hospital. 

“I love you,” Steve mumbled, his hands closing reflexively against Sasha’s chest. “I’ve been…been waiting for you. To tell you that again. I-I love you.”

“Love you, too, Stevie,” Sasha assured, his chest tight. Steve had been waiting for him, while Sasha had thought he was dead. While Sasha had been tearing down Ross’ empire, Steve had been experimented on and _waiting_ for him. “Just hang on, okay? We’ll be out of here soon.”

\----

“I forgive you.”

The words pulled Bucky from the edge of sleep. A warm, heavy weight rested against his back and side, familiar and reassuring. Bucky had gone to sleep alone, Steve taking the couch. The fight had been their worst since New York, leaving Bucky nauseous once he had calmed down. Steve had been so angry with him… 

It had just been a drink. A drink and a smile, but Bucky had lost it. Police had been called and Steve had slept on the couch. Surely, this time, he had had enough of Bucky’s crap?

A hand slid down Bucky’s spine.

“I love you.”

Steve had talked him into going dancing. It was apparently popular in New Orleans, the old style swing that Bucky had once enjoyed. At first it had been fun, Bucky talking Steve into going onto the floor, getting his feet stepped on. When Steve had had enough, he’d retreated to their table and just watched. Bucky certainly hadn’t hurt for partners, girls and guys alike, dancing and moving and reveling in the feel of Steve’s eyes on him. 

It had come back so easily, the steps, how to lead. What he didn’t remember, he found he could easily fill in with his fighting experience. It was all reading his partner’s body language and projecting his own. For all the complicated, staged moves, dancing was primal. It boiled down to showing off what was the best in you, your legs, your ass, your arms, your self-confidence. There was an exhilaration to it, adrenaline and endorphins, and he felt like he was high. High on the personal contact, on the music, on the pure freedom.

And then he’d looked over to see some guy standing at Steve’s table. Bucky never would have noticed, except Steve had smiled at him. Smiled as he took the offered drink. It was more than just the smiling. There was something open in Steve’s body language, something almost _inviting_. Bucky had stopped dancing, abandoned his partner, and shoved his way through the crowd. The roaring in his ears kept him from hearing what they were saying, but Steve was still smiling, and Bucky was on the guy before either of them noticed him. He’d hit him hard enough to knock out a tooth; blood flew, and someone screamed. 

“Call 911!” someone shouted and Steve had Bucky by the upper arm and back of his pants, hauling him out of the club and into the balmy night. He hadn’t said a word, but Bucky could read the anger in every line of his body. When he hadn’t come to bed, when he’d grabbed a blanket and pillow and went to sleep on the couch, Bucky had been so sure it was over. He had hardly slept, his shoulder and chest aching.

Now Steve had come to him in the morning, forgiving him, professing his love. Was it any wonder Bucky thought Steve would find someone better? Someone who deserved the endless forgiveness, the smiles, and incredible sex. Bucky didn’t deserve to be as happy as he was with Steve, and Steve deserved someone who made him happy. Not someone who punched random strangers for looking at his guy twice.

“I’m sorry.”

Bucky twisted, not understanding the words. Shifting to let him roll over, Steve didn’t go far. There was guilt and sorrow etched into every line of his body. He brushed his fingers beneath Bucky’s eyes and let out a soft sound of distress.

“You didn’t sleep.”

“Why are you sorry?” Bucky asked, not understanding why Steve would be apologizing. “I’m the one that fucked up last night.”

This time, the sound Steve made was wounded.

“No, Buck, you didn’t. I… I did.”

“You did,” Bucky repeated flatly. 

Steve nodded, his hand slipping from Bucky’s face reluctantly.

“I might have encouraged that guy to buy me a drink.”

Cold filled Bucky’s stomach. He had been right, Steve was done. Only, it hadn’t been last night. Steve had gotten sick of him well before that. How long had he wanted someone else? Bucky didn’t have the courage to ask.

“Oh,” Bucky said weakly. He sat up, curling his flesh hand about Steve’s wrist loosely so he could pull away if he wanted. “I can do better,” he started, but Steve shook his head, yanked his hand free and pulled Bucky’s face closer so he could rest their foreheads together.

“No, sugar, no. It wasn’t… It’s not like that. I was…” Steve swallowed hard, his eyes closing, long lashes fanning out over his cheeks. “I was jealous, and I got angry and I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I knew you’d react how you did, so I… I encouraged him and I knew you’d get mad, but _Jesus_ , Buck, you punched the shit out of that guy.”

“Well, yeah,” Bucky said dismissively, “You were jealous so you got that guy to buy you a drink? Jealous of _what_?”

Steve flushed, pulling away enough he could duck his head. The hands on Bucky’s face fell away too, dropping to the blanket to pick at the fabric. Nervous, embarrassed; what the hell?

“Your dance partners,” Steve mumbled.

“Hang on,” Bucky said, a wave of giddiness washing through him and making him dizzy, “You were jealous of the people I was dancing with? Why didn’t you just come out and dance with me again?”

“I can’t move like that, Buck,” Steve protested, his head drooping even further. “I can’t ever dance with you like they can.”

It was total bullshit, Bucky knew. It wasn’t that Steve couldn’t dance; someone with his level of fighting experience and sheer physical training was bound to be good at anything physical. It was all in his head, convinced he couldn’t. He had tried telling Steve that before, but it was like his words went in one ear and fell out the other. Like Steve was still half-deaf.

“So you got jealous,” Bucky repeated, a grin stretching from ear to ear. Steve’s shoulders rose, defensive and agitated and that wasn’t at all what Bucky wanted. “Hey, hey,” he said before Steve could say anything else. “It’s okay. Stevie, that’s better than okay, it’s _fantastic_.”

Head snapping up, Steve stared at Bucky in no little confusion. 

“What?”

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve and bore him down, smiling as he laid himself over Steve’s chest.

“If you weren't mad at me, why’d you sleep on the couch?”

The confusion on Steve’s face grew, but he wrapped his arms around Bucky’s back.

“Well, I wasn’t going to make you sleep on the couch, was I? You didn’t do anything wrong. Wait,” Steve frowned, “Buck, I’m the one that made you punch that guy, I’m not gonna be mad at you for it. I was mad at myself. You thought I was mad at you?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t say a damn thing to me the whole walk home and you slept on the couch. Yeah, I thought you were mad at me. Who cares? You were _jealous_.”

“Okay,” Steve said slowly, “You are weirdly happy about this.”

Bucky was.

Definitely happy. He nuzzled against Steve’s jaw, following the path after with his lips. 

“So why are you forgiving me if you weren't mad at me?”

Steve squirmed and Bucky groaned, dropping his hands to Steve’s hips to keep him still. They were going to finish talking, damn it. 

“New York,” Steve said, making Bucky’s stomach clench. “I was forgiving you for New York. I meant to last night, I was waiting to tell you…but then I ended up... And then you punched that guy and…I just wanted you to know.”

Burrowing his face into Steve’s neck, Bucky wrapped his arms around his waist and held on tight. He hadn’t been able to speak at that point. The warmth, the happiness and relief, had been too much. Steve hadn’t pushed, hadn’t made him say anything, he’d just run his hands over Bucky’s back. Hadn’t made him express how grateful he was to have Steve in his life again to stay.

\----

The door clicked closed behind the doctor Stark had flown to the Tower before Steve had even arrived. He had spent nearly a day at the hospital, undergoing tests and surgery, but they’d finally got to take him home. No one had even blinked an eye when Stark said he would pay to have Steve flown to Avenger Tower. Not even Sasha, who had insisted on the hospital in the first place.

Steve hadn’t wanted to go.

No one had been able to sleep until they knew Steve was all right, though Sasha was the only one awake now. The others had retreated to their rooms, leaving Sasha and Sai with Steve and the doctor. Now Sai was curled up on the couch, snoring softly. Sasha sat at Steve’s bedside, a large bed in what passed for the Tower’s infirmary. It was basically just a large, private room with medical equipment.

The only relief Sasha had had been granted by his conscience was that Steve looked remarkably better already. There was color in his cheeks, his skin was no longer dry, and the bruises had healed thanks to the nutrients they had pumped into Steve through an IV. The light green bed sheets had been tucked under his arms, exposing the top of the white bandage wrapped around his chest. Sasha knew it descended to just above Steve’s hips, covering the incision Ross’ doctors had used to slice him open. 

It had turned out the bastards hadn’t quite stitched Steve up all the way when they’d put him on display for Sasha. It had been just enough to keep his insides from spilling out. The doctors Stark had vetted had had to cut him open again, deal with the internal bleeding, then stitch him up a second time. Sasha wasn’t sure what else they’d had to do, but he had watched the head surgeon Stark had flown in to lead the team walk calmly out of the operating room when it was over, and then heard her throw up for what felt like a half hour.

What had been done to Steve was burned into Sasha’s memory, but it wasn’t why he couldn’t sleep. It had been hours since then, but he couldn’t calm down. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t relax. His kept his metal hand over his flesh one because he couldn’t make it stop shaking. It had been shaking since he realised he was going to force Steve into doing something he didn’t want to do. Something he was terrified of. 

When they had gotten everyone onto the quinjet and taken off, Stark had started calling doctors and getting them to the hospital nearest Avenger Tower. Though he’d been so still, Sasha had thought him unconscious, Steve had completely panicked. He had begged, not the sweet way he would between the sheets, but with utter terror in his eyes. Not just with Sasha, he had begged every Avenger on the jet to keep him away from any doctor. 

Wilson and JARVIS had both been certain Steve had to see a surgeon. Everyone was certain of it, healing factor or no. Everyone except for Steve, and he wasn’t playing nice. Steve had recounted some of the worst that had been done to him, begging the team not to make him go through it again. And when they still hadn’t given in, he had cried. He couldn’t even say exactly what he was afraid of, just that he didn’t want to go. The illogic of his pleading was all the more painful to witness. Steve was always grounded, and to see him this panicked, this terrified, broke Sasha’s heart.

Sasha couldn’t remember seeing Steve cry, not before Hydra, and certainly not after. From the looks of the others, they hadn’t either. And the betrayal in his eyes had torn Sasha apart. Steve would not be consoled, no matter that Sasha had sworn to Steve he would be safe, that he would be there the entire time. Sasha understood. He knew personally how that fear tasted, how it burned, and at the same time, froze one's mind blank with terror.

He had still made Steve go. Not that Steve went quietly. Before they even got him off the helicopter pad, he had panicked badly enough the doctors had to sedate him. They had had to keep him sedated through their tests, not to mention the surgery. Steve couldn’t have known, but Sasha kept his promise. So had Sai. They had watched over Steve every moment, from the minute he was carried out of the plane, to the second he was brought to his room here at the Tower. Not a single Avenger had been willing to leave Steve at the hospital, which was why they had returned to Stark’s place.

Sasha didn’t think that would matter to Steve.

The first sign that Steve was awake was his hands curling into fists. Leaning forward, Sasha slipped his flesh fingers into the tight grip. The touch made Steve flinch, jerking away from him entirely. Just like he had the first time Sasha had found him.

“Stevie, doll, it’s me,” Sasha said shakily, “You’re safe. Okay? We got you out.”

Eyes finally snapping open, Steve stared at him and swallowed hard. 

“Sashka,” he whispered roughly, blue gaze searching and vulnerable. With strength and speed he hadn’t had the last time he was awake, Steve snatched up Sasha’s metal hand, gripping it so hard the plates recalibrated to withstand the stress.

“Looks like you're feeling better,” Sasha managed, though his voice sounded weak to his own ears. He wasn't sure what to say at that point. After what had happened, what he'd done, he didn't expect Steve to want him around. Not that he had been able to leave. He wasn’t sure he could leave Steve even if he asked. If he left, if he walked out the room, it would be too difficult to assure himself Steve wasn’t dead.

Steve’s breath caught and he tugged hard at Sasha’s arm, pulling him closer. Then he froze, dropping Sasha’s hand and tearing at the IV in his arm. If Sasha hadn’t been so close, he never would have been able to stop him in time. As it was, the metal arm whirred with effort of holding Steve at bay from ripping the needle out and doing god-only-knew what kind of damage.

“Kitten, kitten, stop,” Sasha tried, but Steve was actively fighting him now, twisting, in danger of ripping his stitches. 

Sasha should have expected it. After they’d woken him from the surgery to make sure the anesthetic hadn’t put him into a coma, he had panicked just as badly. At the time, he hadn’t had the strength to express it. Though pumped full of muscle relaxants, he had flailed about, his face ashen and his lips cracked where the breathing tube had rubbed the fragile skin. The panic had lasted until the doctors were sure Steve would pull through the deep sedation. Then they had given him milder-acting drugs to put him into a real, healing sleep. 

“Steve, _stop_!” Sasha shouted, and he finally listened, going still, breathing hard. “It’s just a nutrient drip,” he said soothingly. “You’re dehydrated and malnourished, and even you can’t eat as much as you need to take in right now, your stomach would explode.”

Behind him, Sasha heard Sai sit up on the couch. A moment later, he was at Sasha’s side, slipping his hands into the hand Sasha wasn’t holding onto, forcing the clenched fist to uncurl. Sai left both his hands in Steve’s, making the long, delicate fingers look huge in comparison. 

“She said you didn’t have to have it in for long,” Sai assured, “and I double-checked that it is what she said it was.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked hesitantly.

Sasha nodded quickly.

“No drugs since… For a while now. There’s some antibiotics they want you to take, but we got you pills for that.”

A fine tremor ran through Steve’s limbs, but relief or fear, Sasha couldn’t say.

“Since what?” he asked quietly.

Sai tried to redirect him, but didn’t get past, “Steve,” before he was interrupted.

“Since _what_ , Sasha?”

Sasha clenched his teeth. Taking Steve to the hospital had been the right thing to do, he knew that. It didn’t erase the betrayal in Steve’s eyes when they’d forced him. Steve hadn’t ever looked at him like that, not before, not after. Steve had trusted him, and Sasha had made him face his newest, worst fear not an hour after leaving it behind. Sasha had had to do it harshly, quickly, ruthlessly. 

It was the ruthlessness Steve hated most about him that made it so painful. That ruthlessness was such a big part of him. At the same time, it was the thing that separated him from the Bucky Steve remembered and loved from the old days. That Bucky had been empathic, soft, and nurturing, whereas Sasha was a creature of fire and vengeance. Every time Steve frowned at him, disappointed by his actions or choices, Sasha felt all the more clearly how imperfect he was. If he was going to be damned for this, damned for saving Steve’s life, then so be it. He would still be vindicated that Steve was alive to rain the disappointment and anger down on him. 

“Since you woke up from the surgery,” Sasha said as gently as he could. 

Before Steve could react, could so much as exhale, Sai blurted, “I - We were there the whole time. We didn’t leave you alone, not for more than a moment. Stark vetted all the doctors personally, and we were there _the whole time_.”

“Oh, Sai,” Steve’s face twisted, his hand tightening on Sai’s. “You shouldn’t have watched that. Sasha, he shouldn’t have-”

“I had to,” Sai interrupted. “We - I couldn’t leave you again. Not after… You were so scared and we promised we would go wherever you did, and the one time we didn’t…”

Sai’s breathing hitched, tears standing out on his lashes.

“No, no, Sai,” Steve said quickly, shaking his hand free of Sai’s hands. He caught his shoulder and then the back of his head, forcing him to maintain eye contact. “It wasn’t your fault. The only person to blame is Ross.”

He coughed, rough and sharp, and Sasha reached around Sai to hand Steve a bottle of water. Unscrewing the cap, he quickly downed half of it before trying to speak again. Neither Sasha nor Sai interrupted. Sasha was just relieved to hear Steve’s voice, hear how strong it was. No matter if Steve didn’t forgive him, he was going to be okay.

“There’s nothing you could have done; you could have been hurt, or killed. You,” he looked up at Sasha, hand twisting to grip his wrist in turn, “would have been arrested. We’re all here,” Steve murmured as Sai’s shoulders started to shake as the tears began slipping down his cheeks, “That’s what matters, okay? I’m… I’m okay.”

“You’re not okay,” Sai argued, swiping at his cheeks.

A small smile tugged at Steve’s lips, and Sasha’s heart clenched.

“No,” he agreed softly, “but I will be. I got you two, don’t I?”

“You’re not mad?” Sai asked, hands twisting in the sheets. 

Steve didn’t pretend to misunderstand.

“That’s…a complicated question,” he said, brows drawn together. His gaze flicked to the IV in his arm and a shudder ran through him before they darted away. “I don’t…” 

Blue eyes darted about the room, growing wider when they saw the medical equipment. He clamped down on Sasha’s hand, hard enough the plates had to recalibrate again. Strangely enough, the sound made Steve relax again, his gaze returning to Sai calmer than before he had looked away. 

“I don’t want to be here,” he finished, “and I’m angry that I was… That I panicked enough I didn’t trust you.” He looked up at Sasha. “Either of you, but I’m not mad _at_ you. I’m mad at myself, and at Ross, and those…” He took a slow, deep breath, squeezed Sasha’s hand violently again and exhaled as it recalibrated. “Ross’ people, but I’m here now and I can’t… You’re both here and how can I be safer than that?”

Sai pressed a little closer to Steve, seeking closeness in a way he’d never done, not even with Bucky. Maybe it was because Bucky had seen too much of him, too much of how broken Sai once was. Steve was new, somebody who hadn’t seen Sai in the throes of withdrawal. Sasha knew Sai loved the clear slate he had with Steve. Loved Steve. That Steve had been so violently opposed to the hospital, the fact they had had to force Steve to go, tore at Sai as it had at Sasha. Tore at the confidence that he was wanted, loved.

“I watched you die,” Sai said quietly. “I made Sasha watch the speech. I think he was proud of you,” Sai was talking slowly. Painfully. Expressing himself the way he only ever did when Steve needled him into it, but of his own volition this time. “You came out. Said good morning and then you died,” Sai said, a certain kind of bewilderment lacing his tone.

“I didn’t…” Steve started protesting, but Sai cut him off, the quiet of his voice silencing Steve completely.

“You were there, smiling on that screen, and then everything blew up and you _died_ and we had to _watch_ it. And we could only watch it, because going there was more important to you than staying together.”

Steve’s face twisted, grief and regret clear in his expression.

“I’m here,” Steve said, uncertain, but wanting to help Sai feel better.

“And I am glad you are,” Sai said, ”but I watched you die and I will never forget that moment. Between the two of us, we scoured every news station, every blog for information on survivors. Sasha even called Tony and everybody said you were dead. You were dead. Nothing can erase that memory. And then we had you, and you were so scared and angry…and it felt like it was our fault somehow. Again.” 

Sai was the closest to crying Sasha had seen him in a long time. For his part, Steve didn’t look much better. His lips were pressed hard together as Sai spoke, his hand running over the back of his head.

“I… I’m sorry, Sai,” Steve whispered. “I know it doesn’t make it better, but I’m sorry.”

“No,” Sai said, tears falling now, “It doesn’t…”

“It’s not his fault, Sai,” Sasha said firmly, interrupting what he suspected was another tirade. “We’re all on our own sometimes and Steve wasn’t even alone. I made sure he had backup and it still didn’t matter. You know he never would have left us if he could have helped it.”

“But he chose to go to that summit,” Sai protested, turning to Sasha even as he leaned closer to Steve. 

“Sai,” Sasha chided, “he was doing what was right, trying to help people after he put down his shield for us. You were right,” Sasha swallowed; why was this so hard to say aloud? “when you said I was proud. I am, and you were, too.”

“But,” Sai argued, his voice tentative and small, “every time we’re apart, something terrible happens. This, when you were going to blow yourself up in New York…”

“Excuse me?” Steve said, though it was clearly an effort to be angry when he was still so upset. “Run that by me again.”

“Ah,” Sasha said hesitantly, wincing as Steve’s gaze sharpened, “Sai, I hadn’t mentioned that…yet.”

“Wasn’t going to mention it, you mean,” Steve said sharply, though he hadn’t once stopped petting Sai’s nape. “You would have rather killed yourself to get rid of Cassel than _talk to me_?”

“Um,” Sasha managed, eyes wide.

“I’ll, um,” Sai said nervously, “get everyone something to eat. Okay?” When no one answered, he added, “Okay.”

He hurried from the room and Steve waited just long enough for the door to close before he started in on Sasha.

“I knew you didn’t trust me, but _really_ , Sasha?”

“You said you forgave me,” Sasha pleaded. He had just gotten Steve back and already the guy was mad at him. It had been, what? Ten minutes? And it wasn’t even what he’d expected Steve to be mad about. “I’m sorry, really, I am. I love you, Stevie, and I’m trying to do better. You gotta know I am.”

“I never forgave this,” Steve said, his voice just as punishing. Then, as abruptly as he’d gotten mad, he tugged at Sasha’s arm and said tenderly, “Come ‘ere, sugar. It’s been so damn long since you held me.”

Sasha didn’t have to be asked twice. It took some doing; Steve was hooked up to so many machines it was hard to crawl into the king-sized bed without disturbing them. Moving wasn’t easy for Steve, either, but he curled into Sasha’s arms, his head pillowed on the flesh one while his hand gripped the metal like a vise. When the arm recalibrated to withstand the pressure, Steve sighed.

“I know you’re trying,” Steve said as soon as he’d relaxed into Sasha’s embrace, “but that’s… You would rather die than trust me?”

“I trust you,” Sasha tried to assure, but Steve shook his head.

“You didn’t tell me and you didn’t tell me because you knew it would upset me.” He let out a long sigh. “I’m not mad at you, Sashka. You went into that place on a mission and you… You called in someone else so you could come to me. There’s no clearer proof that your priorities have changed, that the mission doesn't come first, but… How am I ever supposed to get you to trust I won’t leave you? That I love you? _All_ of you. You don’t… You don’t trust me, so how can you believe that?”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you Steve, but you worked for Hydra!”

Steve’s comment that he wasn’t mad proved untrue as he started to say heatedly, “I never…!” 

“You worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. and S.H.I.E.L.D. was Hydra,” Bucky interrupted. “Conscious of it or not, you were doing their business. You were protecting one of their head honchos. No, shut up for a moment,” Sasha said quickly raising his hand in a gesture to stop Steve, who had opened his mouth in protest. Not that Steve let go of him even as he did. “That’s what I knew at the time. I knew Sai told you about Hydra, that you had seen the pendrive, the proof, but you said nothing about it. I wasn’t worried about you killing me,” Steve flinched, “I was worried you would want to _arrest_ me. I would rather die than be subjected to their conditioning again, Steve. I think you can understand now how much I didn’t want to go through that again.”

Steve’s whole face was tight with the words he was holding back. Still, he was quiet, actually letting Sasha speak. Letting him keep going if that’s what he wanted. There was silence as he waited, making sure Sasha was done.

“Can I speak now?” Steve asked after a ten count, if somewhat testily.

Sasha nodded, watching the way the muscle in Steve’s jaw twitched as he continued to wait for his permission.

“Yeah,” Sasha said, now regretting his outburst.

“First, while I thought I understood your reasoning before, I can say I didn’t understand it as viscerally as I do now.” 

Sasha winced, muttering, “Sorry,” quietly. He had never wanted Steve to understand that particular feeling so well. He had preferred Steve to be ignorant, to have his sympathy, not his empathy. It was too late now; Steve knew exactly what that kind of fear felt like.

“Second, that is only tangentially related to what I’m talking about!” Steve snapped, then took a long breath, visibly calming himself down. “It was never what I was mad about in the first place, in New York.”

“What?” Sasha stared, not understanding.

Steve huffed, fond and exasperated, even while still clearly irritated. Turning his head, he kissed the arm he was lying on and Sasha pulled himself closer. He had almost lost this, the endless patience Steve could have with him. He didn’t think he’d find it in anyone else, that willingness to explain again and again until he understood. How many times had they discussed New York? A dozen? And Steve was suggesting Sasha had missed the point, the reason he had almost lost Steve then.

“Since you think we’re talking about New York, let’s talk about New York,” Steve said, tone still laced with affection, “You thought I was Hydra. You thought I was Hydra,” he repeated, louder, when Sasha opened his mouth to correct him, “and that’s on me because I didn’t tell you I was investigating S.H.I.E.L.D. I should have mentioned my suspicions, if nothing else, but at the time, I thought it was clear whose side I was on. In my defense,” Steve said wryly, “I wasn’t quite as well acquainted with your paranoia at that point.”

“I don’t think that’ll ever get better,” Sasha confessed.

“I know,” Steve assured, making Sasha shiver as he caressed his metal wrist, “but when you thought I was Hydra - again, my fault - you had a choice to make. Continue your mission, or -”

“Trust you,” Sasha interjected, “I told you -”

“No,” Steve said sharply, “you didn’t have to trust me to just not be Hydra. Have you never heard of trust, but verify? That’s the choice you ignored, Sasha. You took Natasha out of the picture and I had you in my bed, in my home. How hard would it have been to do something similar? To find out what I knew. You know when I’m lying, you always have, but you chose to leave instead. To put yourself on the other side of that line.

“Instead of making any effort to talk to me, you thought the better plan was to strap yourself with explosives and pull the trigger if it came down to it. I had wondered,” Steve said, his voice rising with passion, “how you two blew that mausoleum so fast, but it makes sense now. You had them on you. You had them on you because, worse case scenario, you could blow us all to hell and get your man. The better plan to you was to kill the both of us, to leave Sai, than to tie me to a chair and make me tell you the truth. You wouldn’t have even had to do that, the way I get after you fuck me sometimes.” 

There were tears standing out on Steve’s lashes now, though they didn’t fall. Sasha reached up, brushing them away, and Steve let him, holding still. It was the weirdest fight they’d ever had, cuddling like they were.

“And you never mentioned that. Hid it from me because you knew I’d be upset, you knew, so you didn’t bring it up all the times we’ve talked about New York. Why? I’ll tell you,” Steve said before Sasha could try to answer, “because you’re always so damned afraid I’m going to leave. You’re so damned scared I’m going to leave, that I won’t accept who you are and what you do, or I’ll just…fucking get sick of it all. What I’m sick of, Buck,” the name threw Sasha for a moment, before he understood it was a deliberate reminder that their history didn’t start with Cassel, “is this. Of trying to convince you to _trust_ me. I love you and I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’m looking at you, you fuckin’ jerk. Always, and that means you can tell me things that are going to upset me, or force me to see a doctor, or accuse me of being Hydra and I’ll get over it! This, you not trusting me? I ain’t gonna get over this, Bucky.”

Sasha looked down, at the top of Steve’s head.

“You always flinch away,” he said slowly, testing the words, still hesitating to even poke at the things he usually tried not to notice. “You have this look of disappointment on your face every time I act less than perfect. You… You make it very clear you don’t like what you see when I act the way my instincts dictate. And what you see? What I let you see?” Steve’s head came up, gaze sharp as he met Sasha’s. “It’s already filtered to hell and back. If I let you see it all…” Sasha trailed off.

“You think I won’t want you anymore,” Steve finished.

Sasha pressed his nose to Steve’s hair. It was lank and greasy, smelled of sweat and chemicals, but also of him.

“That time in New York, you think Sai meant the explosives I used to blow up the mausoleum.” Steve started nodding before he tensed, then flinched as he caught onto what Sasha was saying. “There was a secondary set of explosives. Ones that couldn’t be removed easily or even detected,” Sasha rubbed his cheek over the top of Steve’s head. “I swallowed them, too. I could trigger them, but Sai had control also, in case I was unable to do it myself.”

Steve opened his mouth and then flinched again, shutting it so his teeth clicked together.

“It’s what I do. How I plan. How I do the things I do. I didn’t think in terms of my own destruction counting for anything for almost seventy years, Steve. It’s not something I can change now, if ever. I try, I swear I try, but what counted to me was the goal, the mission. The goal was not to get captured again. And the explosives were the simplest and easiest way of ensuring I _couldn’t_ be caught.” 

Sasha swallowed. The hands Steve ran up Sasha’s arm to trace his fingertips down his throat were shaking, but he didn’t speak. Didn’t interrupt.

“This is the way I think, the way I see people. I look at Natasha and can tell she feels lost because her stance hasn’t been as balanced as usual. To me, it’s obvious, that if I had to fight her, now is the best time. I look at Clint and some part of me clocks the way he sometimes smells of milk and children. It makes me think _leverage_. I look at Banner and I know that if a push came to shove and I needed a distraction, he’s perfect. Hard enough hit, and he would transform on instinct. I’m not doing it consciously. _It’s how I see people._ And you hate that about me.” Steve’s lips pressed together again. “Why should I shove your face into it over and over again? What purpose does it serve? To make you miserable? To make you staying with me a point of pride? A duty?”

Sasha blinked a few times and relaxed his jaw, he wasn’t even aware he’d been clenching his teeth until he became aware of the pain.

“You asked why I didn’t ask you about Hydra. Why I didn’t tie you to a chair and force you to tell me all you knew.” Sasha made himself focus on the warmth and weight of Steve in his arms, his presence there, still near. “People like you? They need to be _broken_ before they will talk., I know that from experience. It’s not like a simple threat would work on you,” Sasha sighed. “It couldn’t. Even then, I couldn’t stomach the thought of hurting you. Hell, even when I had a shot at Cassel inside that hangar, I didn’t take it because it would have had to go through you.”

“You coulda fucked it out of me,” Steve grumbled.

“No,” Sasha said firmly.

Steve frowned, probably at the sharp sound of Sasha’s voice.

“I don’t do that. Sex is one of the very few things I can enjoy without it being tied to my work, or my past. I would never use it as interrogation technique.”

A long sigh left Steve, his hand moving to rub at Sasha’s arm as if there was still blood flow to be maintained. His hands were still shaking, sadness etched into his features. Exactly what Sasha hadn’t wanted, why he’d never said any of this.

“There’s gotta come a point in time when I stop letting you down,” Steve said quietly.

“You are not letting me down,” Sasha interrupted. “I’m fucked up. I can’t expect you to deal with that on top of everything else.”

Steve’s smile was tight.

“Yes, you can,” he argued, “You think I didn’t know most of that. What I didn’t, Sasha, was the explosives, that you think you’d have to break me to get intel, and you wouldn’t use sex to get information. That last one, I should have known, but I didn’t. The rest of it? I knew. Maybe not to the extent you are implying, but I already knew.” He licked his lips. “Sasha, you’re one of the best assassins out there. If you didn’t know how to kill my friends, I’d honestly be disappointed in you.” 

Sasha snorted, taken aback by Steve’s words, how clear his tone sounded.

“You know why I’m upset? I’m upset because you…” Steve closed his eyes, voice breaking when he continued. “You would have killed yourself; made Sai do it, because you couldn’t talk to me. I don’t… I c-” Steve broke off, grabbed Sasha’s shirt and shook him. “What am I supposed to do with that? I love you and you love me and you… Damn it, you could have died. Of course it disappoints me.” He took a breath, head falling forward to rest his forehead against Sasha’s chest. “What else do you expect me to feel? To know you don’t trust me, that you think I’m gonna leave you because I can’t convince you otherwise.”

“Why do you call it trust?” Sasha asked suddenly. “I don’t want you to know! I don’t want you to hurt! Is it that hard to understand? That I don’t want to see you hurt? See you disillusioned and disappointed in me? I spent…”

Steve shook him again, harder than before, and shouted, “It’s not you I’m disappointed in!” 

Sasha frowned, not understanding Steve at all.

Slumping forward, looking defeated, Steve’s hands unwound from Sasha’s shirt and he murmured, “It’s me I’m disappointed in because I make you think things like that. That you can’t tell me, that I’ll leave, that… That you don’t try hard enough. That you’re not good enough. We had that one damned fight and the things I said… I was so angry and I can’t take them back.

“Sashka, I know you care. I know you try. I know I’ve been terrible about showing you that, but I do. That’s why I’m so goddamn disappointed because I don’t make myself clear enough.” Steve looked up at him, eyes intensely blue and searching, pleading. “I love you. I love you how you are _now_. I loved the Bucky of my past, but I fell in love with you when I didn’t know you were him. I fell in love with your danger, your fierceness, your ruthlessness, how you put everything you are into whatever you do.” He smiled weakly. “I still think you’re a stupid jerk, and an idiot to boot, but I _accept_ you Sasha. All of you. The parts of you that won’t let you leave us alone, or think about how to kill my friends, or… Christ, any part of you. All of it, even the parts you hide, or _think_ you hide.”

Slowly, one of Steve’s hands curled into a fist, Sasha’s shirt trapped inside.

“That’s what I’m asking, when I ask you to trust me. That if, if you think your backup plan has to be suicide, you’ll tell me. I don’t have to like it, to know that, for you…it was…”

“What I had to do,” Sasha offered as Steve’s voice failed. 

Steve nodded, ducking his head and pressing his lips together again. 

Sasha sighed, laying his cheek atop Steve’s head.

“This is why I didn’t tell you.”

Jerking back, Steve swiped his thumb under Sasha’s eyes and muttered belligerently, “Forgive me for being upset it… _that_ is an option for you.”

Abruptly his fist collided with Sasha’s chest. Sasha grunted, but caught both his wrists.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Sasha scolded.

“You made me promise,” Steve said angrily. “You made me promise and you didn’t tell me.” He struggled for a moment, before slumping again. “I can’t _lose_ you.”

“Steve…” Sasha murmured, but Steve just shook his head, finally met Sasha’s gaze again.

“Can you promise me Sashka, that you will treat your life as if it was my own? That you will not use ‘suicide’ as an acceptable option? If you can’t…okay, but I have to ask you.”

Sasha licked his lips, staring at Steve, _understanding_ him, maybe for the first time.

“Only if it goes both ways. I don't get to gamble my life for the sake of efficiency, you don’t get to sacrifice yourself either.”

“I don't…” Steve protested instinctively, like the punk always did. 

“Grenade to the face, Steve. _Grenade_ to the face.”

Steve sniffed, a glint in his eyes suggesting he might argue, before he just nodded. He was obviously flagging, his body using up all his energy to heal the damage he was still sporting. It was going to be weeks before Steve could safely leave the bed.

“I can agree to that,” Steve said thoughtfully.

“You confuse the hell out of me,” Sasha murmured.

“It’s not all that complicated. I just love you and that’s all. There is no great secret to it; I love you,” Steve pressed his face against Sasha’s chest and huffed, “You’re the confusing one.”

“Is that bad?” Sasha asked, feeling Steve relax and releasing his wrists.

Steve smiled; Sasha could feel it against his chest, where his shirt had stretched when Steve pulled at it.

“Irritating as hell, but no. It’s always something new with you. You make me feel alive, you know?” Steve yawned, then snuggled into Sasha’s chest again. “Nobody else fires me up like you do. I want to make love to you one second, strangle you with my bare hands the next, and curl up in a corner from sheer embarrassment five minutes later, but I also can’t wait for another day with you.”

Sasha licked his lips. What Steve said… It felt like absolution; forgiveness and a challenge at the same time. It took his breath away and invigorated him. A feeling he would have kept to himself just two months ago. 

“You make me want to be careful. I…change my plans for you. I think about what you would do. You make me want to _change_. I love Sai, but you made me consciously want to change. I want to protect you and I’m jealous as fuck of anyone who gets your time.”

The smile against Sasha’s skin widened.

“I love you, too,” Steve murmured. 

The door clicked open and all the gentle relaxation in Steve vanished. It had to hurt, how quickly he tensed every muscle in his body. Yet it showed just how relaxed Steve had been before. How safe he’d felt, curled against Sasha. Now he peered over Sasha’s arm, suspicious and wary, and only relaxed when Sai pushed his way back in with a tray piled with food. Not completely, that didn’t happen until he wrapped his hand around Sasha’s arm and made the plates recalibrate.

“You’ve been doing that on purpose,” Sasha blurted.

Steve peered up at him and blushed.

“Shut up,” he muttered. 

Watching them curiously, Sai settled on the edge of the bed. Carefully, with Sasha helping, Steve eased back onto his back so the kid could get as close as possible. He settled against the headboard, hip to Steve’s shoulder, where he couldn’t cause pain, but still be close.

“What’s he doing?” Sai asked, handing out food. Sandwiches for himself and Sasha, a shake for Steve that smelled like ice cream and chocolate. Steve eyed it suspiciously before taking a sip from the straw and humming.

“Making my arm recalibrate,” Sasha answered, ignoring the elbow that earned him. 

“You just noticed he’s got a thing for it?,” Sai asked curiously.

“Oh my god,” Steve muttered, blushing slightly. “Shut up.”

Sasha laughed.

“No, I know that. This is different.”

“My god,” Steve moaned between them.

“How’s it different?” Sai asked curiously, completely ignoring Steve’s moaning.

“I don’t quite get the clothes-off vibe from him, you know?” Sasha said musingly, and Sai nodded, a frown of concentration on his face.

“Kill me now,” Steve commanded the ceiling, his cheeks still stained with a blush.

“Oh, that.” Sai said with an expression that suggested everything was suddenly clear and obvious. “It’s probably cause it sounds menacing as fuck when it powers up or recalibrates. Steve has a thing for it, but most people would run away in terror.”

“Let me up, I’m gonna find the nearest window and jump out of it,” Steve muttered grumpily. “Neither of you understand at all.”

Sasha turned to Steve and smiled, wide and toothy, and made his arm power up, the mechanical whine loud in the relatively small space. Instantly Steve closed his eyes, taking a breath as his shoulders lowered another fraction. It was not at all the expression of a man who wanted to jump him, which is what would have happened before Ross. Steve sure as hell wouldn’t have closed his eyes.

“I see what you mean,” Sai said conversationally.

“I hate you both,” Steve mumbled without any heat, avoiding their eyes. “If you _must_ know, I…” he twisted his straw in a circle, “I don’t get the sound right. When I’m…dreaming, or…whatever.” Hallucinating, Sasha guessed. “Or you’ll have two flesh arms, so…the sound reminds me that I’m not there, and even if I was I’d be safe. So...there, _now_ you know.”

“I can cycle it through power-up as often as you want,” Sasha promised, running his flesh hand gently down Steve’s flank. He was still afraid to touch him, afraid he would cause even more damage. He cycled up the arm and felt how Steve relaxed against him, tension literally draining from him as the sound continued. It was the first time in Sasha’s life that the arm had made someone feel safe, protected instead of threatened. Sasha couldn’t recall ever feeling so happy, so deeply glad to have it as he did now.

“That’s kind of adorable,” Sai said, grinning as well. “It’s like a security blanket, but it’s a murder arm.”

“It’s not a murder arm,” Steve muttered. Absently, he pressed his shake into Sasha’s hand and twisted, his head leaning on his shoulder, while his other hand found and rested on Sai’s knee. “It’s Sasha’s arm.”

“Still Sasha, huh?” Sai commented, because if he was going to give Steve a hard time, he’d give Sasha one as well. Then he yelped and Sasha saw Steve’s hand retreat from where it had pinched the kid’s leg.

“Leave him be, I've given him enough grief for one night,” Steve scolded, eyes closed so he didn’t see how bright Sai smiled. Sasha felt exactly the same as he kept the arm purring, watching Steve slowly settle into sleep. It was wonderful to have him back, but even better to see he really hadn’t been broken.

They were together again, and that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> implied character death, kidnapping, drugging, aftermath of torture, human experimentation


End file.
